


brooklyn: this could be a story

by little_giddy



Category: Gossip Girl
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-02-29
Updated: 2012-02-29
Packaged: 2017-10-31 22:29:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/little_giddy/pseuds/little_giddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The many alternate universes of Dan and Blair. Feat.: Easy A, Fringe, the one where they meet at the health club, the one where they meet at Starbucks, the one where they meet on Valentine’s Day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Easy A

Let's get something straight: Blair Waldorf did not *need* to be more in the school's eyes. She was plenty. She was everything to anyone who wanted to be anybody. 

Everything but scandalous. 

So when she finds herself stuck in a bedroom with Nate Archibald, who loves her, has loved her, and is frankly, adorable, and he is clearly terrified out of his wits, she finds herself saying, 'Look, we just don't say anything. They'll figure it out or think they have.' He looks at her with relief and nods. It reminds her of when she did the same thing at a party for rich and famous brats, but that was just kissing, and this is probably a bit more serious. 

And figure it out they surely do. By they, she means everyone. 

Boys who have always cowered in fear when she walks by take a look at her skirt measurement. The first three get a corner of a book where it hurts. 

She and Nate have a painfully awkward break up when he tells her he actually wants to sleep with her best friend, but that he's pretty sure Serena wouldn't have even noticed he existed That Way if they hadn't pretend slept together, so maybe they should just-

Blair rages privately, exiles Serena from her penthouse when she admits she maybe wants to sleep with Nate too and secretly hopes Nate will grow up better. All she wants is a quiet night in with a silly film or a good classic and ice cream, but that makes her think of Serena and that is unacceptable. 

She googles cinemas until she finds one showing an Audrey Hepburn retrospective and calls a car. The driver asks if he should wait in a manner that suggests this is a terrible idea - and it speaks to the day that it's then she realises she is in Brooklyn.


	2. Fringe: redverse

Dan runs through the crowd with his eyes ahead and nearly careens into someone he doesn't recognise when his ear clip beeps at him. He tugs his coat together, ducks his head and taps the call. 

'I wasn't there.'

He flattens against the wall and lets out a sigh of relief. 

'Humphrey?'

'Yeah. Good to know.'

'I can't believe-'

'Yeah. Did you think -'

There's a pause. Dan swallows. 

'Your name wasn't on the evac list after the amber.' 

'That might be because I was already in Brooklyn in a car outside your door. Which FYI, Humphrey, I still am. It's a good thing I didn't put all my property eggs in one basket, well, the Upper East Side, but who actually does that nowadays anyway, when it could get ambered just like that- God, the Upper East Side is just gone- we're going to have to transfer schools-'

Dan turns to the subway, letting himself sink into the sound of her voice. The only name he looked for on the evac list and didn't find: not frozen into the UES after all.


	3. the gym

‘Excuse me, I see a lost soul in need of guidance,’ Blair shakes her head and steps down from the treadmill. Serena gives her a look. ‘He’s a disaster waiting to happen! And thanks to your court-ordered civic duty, we’re the nearest first aiders. Consider this a preventative measure. You can thank me later.’   
  
‘Sure thing, B,’ Serena shakes her head and pops her left headphone in.    
  
Blair clears her throat. Then sighs and taps him on the shoulder. Wide hazel eyes meet hers. She points at the weight clip and tilts her head. ‘Really? Frankly, it’s optimistic in a month, but also, if you don’t fix the machine first, it’s going to smack you on the head. Which, you know, if you think it’ll help-'   
  
He blinks at her. ‘I’m lean, actually. Do you work here or have I accidentally joined New York’s most collaborative exercise in vanity?’   
  
Blair leans past him and clips the damn machine. ‘There. You’re welcome. Do you need me to do it again but slowly?’   
  
They look at each until he rolls his eyes and points at the rowing machine. ‘No, but could you show me how to work that one? I think the trainers will engineer my demise if I show weakness.’    
  
They’re not friends. They’re people who deign to speak to each other at the gym. It’s an entirely different thing. Which is what Blair tries to tell Serena’s eyebrow, repeatedly. It’s a discussion she’s just finishing for the fifth time in a week when someone coughs next to their lounger by the poolside. ‘Is this one taken?’   
  
Blair turns and sees Dan-Humphrey-Lonely-Gym-Boy by the next lounger holding a plain white sheaf of papers. ‘It’s not the Hamptons but you’re welcome to it. You’ve met Serena van der Woodsen?’   
  
Serena gives that eyebrow again and folds her magazine beneath the lounger. ‘I think I feel the sauna calling. Just can’t keep warm in New York winter, even with this place!’   
  
Blair shakes her head and claims the magazine. ‘Ignore her. Please. She was born here.’   
  
Dan ducks his head and nods seriously. ‘Noted.’   
  
They last three minutes before Blair eyes him suspiciously. ‘Did you get punched in the nose? And is that the proof?’   
  
Dan Humphrey, best-selling author, which Blair might have known when she saved him from concussion-by-gym-equipment. He shakes his head and hands over the book, but makes a noise like a cat when she attempts to open it. ‘Well, what else are books for?’   
  
He takes it back and nearly hugs the thing until he realises he’s shirtless and wet, a fact that hadn’t totally escaped Blair. ‘It’s not finished yet.’   
  
‘Oh, for crying out loud, the meaning of the word ‘proof’ is known to me and honestly, have you started doing coke, because I’m going to be deeply disappointed if you’ve gone so far to the wannabe-Beat side already,’ she snaps her fingers and lays a palm out flat.    
  
And bites her lip, because damn if him curling into a lounger in protest isn’t something.    
  
‘You know, if you have a cold,’ she says sweetly, ‘you should absolutely try the steam room. Clears all the pipes. You can leave the proof with me.’   
  
Humphrey replies something that sounds awfully like ‘don’t want to’ and ‘head hurts’.    
  
‘It’s in the membership, you know, and I have to say that you sound like you’re permanently speaking in the past tense or all your words have end rhymes.’    
  
He rolls back over with a groan and pushes his hair back. ‘It’s just a cold and you know how I feel about the membership.’    
  
Blair does and it is completely ridiculous. ‘Oh, whatever, your editor took it out, not you, et-cet-er-a. You know, I really didn’t think modern editors were so involved, what with the economic climate. Maybe it’s because it’s fiction.’ She pauses. ‘Your book, I mean.’   
  
He makes a noise and passes her the proof. ‘I’ll see you in the cafe?’   
  
She gets a text message while she’s in the locker room. **if nobody looks at the naked people is it still a naked heat room?**   
  
Serena makes a comment about gym acquaintances and phone numbers that Blair pointedly ignores. 


	4. Starbucks

‘GRANDE TRIPLE SHOT SPACE FOR -’   
  
‘Oh, hey, that’s-’   
  
_'Finally-’_   
  
‘Whoa!’   
  
Blair’s eyebrows ascend as the barista pulls the coffee back out of reach. ‘You know, I don’t think you know how this works. This isn’t a fun game we play, you and I.’    
  
The barista raises his free hand. ‘It’s seriously bad vibes to perpetuate cycles of anger.’   
  
‘Wait, is that-’ Blair looks at the dark-haired man beside her in a thick wool cardigan and satchel. ‘Is that mine? I hope it’s mine. Unless you’re gonna hold it until it’s cold, in which case, I’m totally okay with you giving it to her.’   
  
‘The coffee belongs to both and yet neither of you,’ the barista looks between them.    
  
They look at each other.    
  
‘Look, how hard is it to make another triple shot with  _space_ in it? Is it the space part that’s causing you the trouble? Because it’s not that complex.’   
  
The thin man with that hair - she’d process that visual later when there was an  _eight_ on the clock - leaned closer. ‘Maybe don’t piss him off if you want him to make your coffee?’   
  
‘Are you kidding me right now,’ she retorts, ‘that steaming cup there is mine. That unboiled water in the machine aspires to be yours.’   
  
‘Look, I have this meeting in  _five_ minutes, and you’re clearly not that nice a person, but could you try for two whole minutes?’   
  
Blair takes her elbow off the bar and faces him, tugging her hat off and her gloves. ‘You’ve got a meeting? I’ve got a meeting and it is not a time of the morning that lends itself to being voiced and I need that coffee. I don’t think you understand, mister.’ She pokes him in the chest because it seems like an effective way to punctuate her sentence.   
  
He pokes her in the arm. She swats his hand.   
  
‘You know, two of my friends met just like this. I mean, they were nice about it. You two seem like you’re carrying a lot of bad karma.’   
  
Blair scrunches her nose as the stranger rolls his eyes and they round on the barista at the same time.    
  
‘They’re married now. I’ve probably got pictures on my phone. I could get my phone.’   
  
Blair is rendered temporarily speechless and shakes her head just as the man says, ‘I know you think you’re probably helping but you’re really, really not and apparently we both have places to be, so-’   
  
‘BLAIR!’    
  
A brightly smiling woman carrying a yoga mat sweeps into view, casting a drive by ‘soy skimmed chai’ to the till on the way past.    
  
She air-kisses Blair and grins at the coffee thief.    
  
‘So glad to see you’re already getting along! This is the fantastic co-editor I was telling you about- Dan Humphrey, Blair Waldorf. You’re going to get along famously. Now, darlings, aren’t mornings just the best times for an open mind?’


	5. the one with the missing phones

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the premise of 'I've Got Your Number' by Sophie Kinsella.

**'** Oh you have got to be kidding me this is not happening why is this happening-'   
  
Blair shakes her head and takes a breath, then feels in her bag for the thing which will fix everything and -    
  
She blinks, slams her bag down on the nearest flat surface and scrabbles through it. A quick trip back to the table in the hotel bar, a quick interrogation of the bar staff and -    
  
At least she still has her  purse.   
  
Two minutes later Blair's on the street scanning for a cab and counting the hours and reconstructing her plan for the day on a post it with an IKEA pencil that can only be Serena's.    
  
There is no cab. This is New York, she is Blair Waldorf, and  there is no cab.   
  
Hope appears in the form of a battered phone lying on top of a bin. She winces and scans the area around the phone in the bin. No food, no rats. Dare she? No. It would be  stealing. Except - it's in a  bin.   
  
Her mind flashes to every film where the heroine ditches her phone to evade secret government traces. Blair thinks momentarily of a SWAT team breaking out of the penthouse elevator shaft because she lifted a wanted criminal's phone. But dammit, she has an  engagement party  to get to. Neo had his reasons for theft and so does she.    
  
She lifts the phone and walks the block to the next intersection with sweat breaking out on her palms and without looking back. Nobody saw. Nobody saw. Confidence is the watchword.    
  
Blair considers the numbers she knows by heart.    
  
'Serena! Thank God. I thought today couldn't get any worse but then it did.'   
  
There's a pause. 'B, slow down. What's happened? What's the plan? I'll send a car - where are you?'   
  
'I was at the St Regis for a charity function. I swear I only had two - maybe three? - glasses of good sparkly stuff. But now I have no engagement ring, no phone and oh  god,  Louis's family are going to be there  tonight.  Hold on, I have a text.'   
  
'I thought you said you lost your -'   
  
**I'm sure you have your reasons but wasn't stealing my notebooks and laptop in that cafe enough? Just to clarify: the phone isn't even a smartphone, and you're not a smart thief.**   
  
'But I didn't steal -  oh. Oh.'  Blair swallows and taps her fingertips on the edge of the phone.   
  
** Apparently the thief agreed - I found this at the top of a bin five minutes after I lost *my* phone.   
**   
'Right, S, now, about the ring - three generations! What am I going to  do!'   
  
**Oh. Does that mean I can have it back? I know it's a piece of crap but there's some lines from my next novel stored in the drafts and I have three months on the contract.**   
  
Blair bites her lip as the car comes into view.    
  
**How's tomorrow?**


	6. the florist

In Blair's defence, she is busy and important. Such is life when you're the face and lead of a network's top rated current affairs chat show.   
  
Which is why she thinks it'll be the easiest matter of seconds to nip into the florist on the way to the studio to send her best friend a bouquet. (Serena's return to NYC from two years abroad is the bright spot in her hitherto lousy week, but Serena's apartment is a hovel, one that Blair thinks would be improved by some tastefully bright tulips or a bulldozer, but she only has time for the flowers this week.)  
  
But there's a queue. A queue. She regrets the attack of sentimentality that made her decline her assistant's offer to take care of this immediately.   
  
There's a figure with a notepad working his way down the line.   
  
'Just fill out this and we'll get that processed as soon as-'  
  
Blair pulls out her PDA and cycles through her twitter feed while she waits.   
  
The scruffy flower man reaches her. She snatches the form with a forced smile and blinks down at it while he moves on.   
  
With a frown she reaches out to tap his arm. 'This is absurd. Are you an all roses flower shop for a reason? Is there another form in your bundle?'  
  
She gets an eyebrow in response. 'You mean you're not actually here for roses?'  
  
Blair makes a face. 'Why on earth would I be-'  
  
There's an eyebrow above amused hazel eyes and a slight cough and nod to the window display behind her. With her head in emails, she hadn't looked.   
  
Pink, red, pink, roses, cards, more roses.   
  
She smacks her forehead.   
  
There's a hand under her elbow extracting her from the queue. 'Follow me. There's a home base beyond the madness for the less desperate romantics.'  
  
She snorts at the reference and notes the ink slodges at his nails. 'You know, I don't think I've seen you here before, and it's my professional obligation to send flowers to someone every two weeks.'  
  
He takes out a more sensible yellow form and gestures to the tulips. 'It's my sister's shop. She thinks that academics don't have anything better to do in their unscheduled hours than help out on busy days of the florist year.' He looks up at her. 'I'm a seasonal offer.'  
  
Blair groans. 'I'll take the tulips and leave the puns, thank you. What's your subject?'  
  
He checks that the writing on the top form had pressed down through the copies. 'English Lit professor at NYU.'  
  
Blair narrows her eyes and quickly rechecks her PDA, specifically the one marked URGENT - DISCUSSION CANCELLATION. Then she tilts her head. 'How are you on early twentieth century novels about the city?'  
  
'Charmingly specific,' he blinks, 'I teach a course on it to freshmen.'  
  
Blair smiles and sticks her hand out. 'Blair Waldorf-'  
  
'I know. Dan Humphrey.'  
  
'- don't be an ass, I'm going to get you out of here. How do you feel about tv panels?'


End file.
